Though He Slay Me
by Marla Fair
Summary: Thirty-eight year old Ben Cartwright is on a desperate ride to save his sons who have been taken hostage. Not only their lives, but his faith is on the line. A short story written for the Bonanza Boomers 2018 Father's Day writing challenge.


Though He Slay Me

Ben Cartwright rose slowly from his knees, feeling the weight of every one of the thirty-eight years he had walked the earth. He paused to wipe the sweat from his brow with the back of his tanned and callused hand before bending down and dusting the sand from his knees. Then he laughed. A short, harsh bark.

As if there was anyone to see.

Uncapping his canteen, the rancher lifted it to his lips and took a slow sip, relishing the tepid water as eased the burn in his throat. The trail to the point he was at had been one long hard ride. The June sun beat down, baking the desert sands and any man foolish enough to cross them. His friend Roy had tried to stop him, though he'd known the effort was useless. Once he knew... Ben sucked in air like a drowning man. ...once he knew that his boys, all _three_ of them – serious seventeen-year-old Adam, lovable eleven-year-old Hoss, and his incorrigible, incredible four-year-old Joseph – had been taken hostage, there was _nothing_ that could have stopped him. Not even the fact that it meant he had to leave their grieving mother alone. His family had gone to the settlement for supplies. Marie had left the boys at the mercantile while she went to the dress shop for a fitting. While she was away, their sons had been taken by six men on the run from the law. His wife was at Doctor Martin's. He'd gone to her, but she'd sent him away.

Typical of Marie, she'd told him not to come back if he was alone.

Ben ran his hand across his lips, wiping away salt and sweat. He glanced at the sky, routinely noting the position of the sun and the few hours remaining until dark. But that wasn't what he was thinking about. He was thinking about his God.

That's why he had been on his knees.

He wanted to kill them; these lawless men who cared little for the lives of three young men who were as innocent as lambs. When Roy confronted them, telling them there was no way they could escape, one of the men had grabbed Joseph and placed the barrel of his pistol against his baby's head. It was at that point that Adam had asked, no, _begged_ Roy to let them go.

'Deputy Roy, you tell Pa and Ma that I won't let anything happen to Hoss or Little Joe. And tell them we love them.'

There was no man more blessed on the face of the Earth than he was. The joy his family brought him was unspeakable. And now, in the blink of an eye, it might all be gone. If the boys... If those villains hurt them... Marie would never be the same.

 _He_ would never be the same..

He could still feel Roy's hand on his shoulder. "It's in God's hands, Ben."

God's hands.

Yes, his sons lives were in God's hands, just like Job's children's lives had been and they had all died.

As Roy shouted at him to wait on the posse he'd taken off, flying as fast as his buckskin could carry him. As he rode he argued with God, railing against the fact that his family had been in town at that precise moment. God knew. He _knew._ There was nothing He _didn't_ know.

Why?

 _Why?_

And then – then – he'd stopped his horse and dropped to his knees. He'd bowed his head and repented, because for just a moment he had come close to cursing God.

' _Though He slay me, yet will I trust in him_ , ' Job had declared after the death of his children.

Those same words had been pried from his dusty, chapped lips along with four others.

" _Thy_ will be done."

With trembling fingers, the rancher tightened the cap on his canteen and turned toward his horse, ready to ride. As he did he heard a sound, one he thought _must_ be an illusion.

Was that Joseph's laugh?

A second later two horses came into view. The riders paused when they saw him, and then with a whoop and a holler charged forward at a pace that would have brought a scolding –

Any other day.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Later, in the cool of the desert night, the four of them sat together around a campfire. It had been too long and hard a ride to undertake to return to the settlement after what his sons had been through, especially the younger ones. Hoss lay beside Adam. Joseph was sleeping in his arms. His tiny son had taken hold of him as Adam let him down from the horse and not let go.

"It was amazing, Pa," Adam said, breath and wonder in his voice. "Those men, they were mean as snakes. Little Joe kept crying. I was afraid they were going to..." Adam shook his head. "Then, out of nowhere, a band of Indians appeared. We were surrounded before we knew what was happening. They were looking for the men who had us. They...took them away."

Ben nodded his head while breathing a silent prayer. "How did _you_ get away?"

"We didn't. I mean, their chief let us go. _After_ he heard our name. Remember last winter, the small band of Paiutes you gave food to?"

Yes, he did. And he remembered God's words about being comforted as you comforted others.

"Pa?"

"What is it, Adam?"

His eldest son's smile was shy. "Do you remember what day it is?"

He frowned and then, he remembered. Secretly he knew it was why Marie had taken the boys into the settlement.

Adam looked chagrinned. "We never got you a present."

Ben met his son's intense gaze, glanced at his middle boy, and then adjusted his hold on Little Joe and tucked the boy in closer to his chest.

"Oh, yes, you did."

In fact, it was the happiest Father's Day he had ever had.


End file.
